


don't really know (where the world is)

by cyclothimic



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyclothimic/pseuds/cyclothimic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel had cried when she read Quinn's words neatly written across the page in cursive. Suddenly, the book disappeared from her view and she looked up to see Quinn hugging it tightly against her chest. There were tears at the edges of Quinn's eyes and she was looking at Rachel with a betrayed look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't really know (where the world is)

" _Some people are old at 18 and some are young at 90. Time is a concept that humans created"_

_–_ _Yoko Ono, 1977_

* * *

Rachel was late. It was the first day of school and she was late. Unbelievable. She had leaped out of bed and took a less than satisfying shower. Then she grabbed the sandwich her Dad had made her and rushed out, bidding a hurried goodbye to her parents. She got in her car and despite there only being five minutes before school started, she drove towards Lima Bean.

She was totally against being late to school and ruining her perfect attendance record, but she also knew there would be a big chance for her disciplinary record to be stained for the first time in her life if she did not get her daily caffeine sustenance. So, munching on the last of her sandwich, she practically ran into the shop and breathed in relief when she saw that there was nobody lining up. She made her order and impatiently rocked on the balls of her feet as she waited for her soy latte.

She had only taken five sips and was halfway out the door when she collided into someone and spilled her drink all over the pavement. She nearly cried at the sight of her drink wasted. But she was a nice person and she was a smart person and she knew it was totally her fault that she spilled her drink and probably stained someone's outfit because she was not  _looking_  when she was walking.

She looked up, already spewing apologies. She was hastily grabbing paper napkins from her bag when the victim of her carelessness stopped her with her beautiful voice. Rachel looked up and she was pretty sure that this was the prettiest person she had ever met in her life.

The girl smiled. It was a tiny smile, but a smile still. "It's okay." And then she nodded once and she shouldered past Rachel.

And that was how Rachel came to know about Quinn Fabray.

* * *

Her name was Quinn Fabray. She was seventeen. She was blonde. Her hazel eyes, flecked with green, were enchanting. She was in her senior year of William McKinley High and Rachel still had no idea how she couldn't have noticed a girl so pretty when they went to the same school.

Quinn was about to embark on her life, out of Lima, Ohio, and into the wilderness of real life at Yale. She was quiet. She was top of the class. She spent her free time under the bleachers, reading  _Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird_  and more.

Rachel had been watching her for quite some time.

She wasn't stalking her. Rachel had just been thinking about the girl from first period to third and then she saw the girl roaming the hallways alone, seemingly in deep thoughts. And Rachel had inadvertently asked Kurt who the girl was and he looked at her with a horrified look, as if her not knowing the girl was a tragedy. Frankly, Rachel agreed.

"That's Quinn Fabray," he started. "It may be against the law of nature for you, of all people, to not know her, because you know, you're a raging lesbian and all that." Rachel had smacked his arm – hard – for that. "But it's also no wonder too, because she's a really quiet girl. She doesn't talk much and she may seem like a dumb blonde but disbelieve me not, her SAT score is 2320."

She gasped. "What?" she shriek-whispered.

He nodded. "To be honest, I wouldn't have noticed her if it wasn't her perfectly cared for hair. I mean look at her, it's perfect," he swooned.

"Kurt, focus."

He looked chastised. "She hasn't dated anyone in her entire high school career. Not that I know of anyway. The only people she associates herself with are Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce, god knows why. But, from my utmost observation, Lopez and Pierce may be the top bitches in this school; they care for Quinn very deeply. From what I know, they have a warning out to the jocks and the likes to stay away from Quinn."

That was all Kurt could tell her. And the rest, Rachel had gotten from her precise skills of investigation. She wasn't  _stalking_. She was just curious. And Quinn Fabray was really beautiful. And Rachel just wanted to be friends with her, if not more.

She made it her quest to be the next person Quinn Fabray would associate herself with.

* * *

She would find chances to talk to Quinn. The first time they talked, Rachel had approached her at her locker and apologized for spilling coffee on her. And Quinn had once again flashed her angelic smile at Rachel and said it's okay. Then Rachel took the opportunity to introduce herself.

After that, Rachel would join her at the library sometimes. Or she'd ask Quinn about chemistry homework. Sometimes, she would pretend that she wasn't a  _raging lesbian –_  as Kurt would so eloquently put it – and asked Quinn about the boys she found interesting at the school.

"I'm pretty sure their brains are made out of Botox," Quinn had said. Rachel had blinked. And blinked again. Quinn smirked at the look on her face and went back to doing her homework. Rachel didn't question any further.

Santana cornered her in the girls' bathroom one time. Rachel's eyes widened and she braced herself against the sink. This couldn't be good.

"What are you doing?"

"Pardon?"

Santana crossed her arms and she glowered at Rachel. She looked dangerous. "What. Are. You. Doing?" she enunciated each word carefully.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Rachel stumbled over her words.

"You're trying to get closer to Quinn. I can see it. You've partnered yourself up with her in AP Chemistry and AP Biology. You've made yourself her seating partner in English. You're talking to her with that big ass smile on your face. You're sitting with her in the library. And I'm asking you, what are you doing?"

Rachel squinted as she observed the look on Santana's face. And she saw it. Fear. "I'm only trying to be her friend," she explained with much care. Well, not really. Because she found that as time grew, her feelings about Quinn – or  _for_  Quinn – had only grown beyond friendship.

"Why?" Santana snapped, stepping forward abruptly.

Rachel could barely keep from flinching. "Because I want to."

"No," Santana said. "Nobody just  _wants_  to be her friend. She's secluded and she's a bitch and she basically an Ice Queen."

Rachel frowned. "As a friend, you sure have a lot of nice things to say about her," she commented.

Santana clenched her jaw. She uncrossed her hands and jabbed her forefinger in Rachel's direction. "If you so much as hurt a hair on her, I swear to god I will make the rest of your high school life a living hell."

"Not that I don't appreciate your protectiveness over your friend, which is incredibly understandable, but this is a whole other level of care," Rachel commented. "What is going on?"

Santana stepped back, as if surprised by Rachel's straightforwardness. "It's none of your business," she said quietly and then stormed out of the bathroom.

* * *

Quinn's father had run away with another woman, leaving her mother to sink into depression. Eventually, her mother had died, leaving the blonde in the care of her grandfather, who was always so busy with his harem of mistresses. His product with one of his mistresses had harassed Quinn in ways for four years. Her grandfather had slapped her in the face when she told him.

Quinn did not contribute this information voluntarily.

Rachel's curiosity had killed the cat. She saw Quinn's diary on the table in the library they were sitting at when Quinn took a bathroom break. And then she had went ahead to read it because her ethics had somehow flown out the window today.

_I feel so old, and yet granddaddy looks so young. How did that happen?_

Rachel had cried when she read Quinn's words neatly written across the page in cursive. Suddenly, the book disappeared from her view and she looked up to see Quinn hugging it tightly against her chest. There were tears at the edges of Quinn's eyes and she was looking at Rachel with a betrayed look.

"Quinn," Rachel breathed, standing up.

Quinn shook her head and gathered her things in a hurry and practically sprinted out of the library. Rachel slumped back into her chair and held her head in her hands.

Oh God, what had she done?

* * *

Quinn  _actively_ avoided Rachel. When Rachel appeared from one side of the corridor, Quinn would slink off somewhere to the other. Rachel left a note of apology in Quinn's locker but received no reply.

Rachel had nearly given up on looking for the girl. Until she saw her in a corner in the library during free period one day. Rachel had nearly squealed in delight, but she quickly realized that she was in the library. She strode in Quinn's direction. Quinn saw her coming but she knew fairly well that she had nowhere to escape to at this point.

Quinn fidgeted in her seat; playing with the corner of the book she was reading. Rachel took a glance and cocked her brows.

_Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban_. "Enjoying yourself?" she drawled. Quinn kept quiet. "You know, you would make a very talented ninja." Silence. Rachel sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to read your diary."

Quinn gulped and lifted her eyes to look at Megan for the first time in days. "What did you read?"

"Quinn," Rachel said. "I'm sorry." This time, it wasn't just an apology for reading her diary. It was an apology for the things she'd been through.

The other girl closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

Rachel's eyes traveled to her hands when she tugged the sleeves of her shirt to cover her wrists. She looked at Quinn in alarm when she saw hints of neat scars painted across her wrists. She swallowed audibly and her eyes watered. She had no idea that Quinn would resort to such extremes to escape.

After a moment, she whispered, "What's it like?"

Quinn's brows knitted together, joined at the bridge of her nose. She licked her lips. She took a few deep breaths.

"It's like you're drowning, except you can see everyone around you breathing," she started, her voice weak. "It doesn't kill you, but it makes you want it to. It forces you to fake a smile every day. It makes you tell everyone around you that you're fine, when you're burning inside. You feel worthless. You feel numb. You feel like a failure. It screws you up. It makes you screw yourself up. It makes me who –  _what_  I am today. It makes me something I don't wanna be."

Each of those words sent a pang to Rachel's chest. Her brain could hardly process it. What made her ache the most was the sad smile Quinn had sent her way before she gathered her stuff and left.

Quinn Fabray wasn't so perfect after all.

* * *

She found Quinn under the bleachers. She quietly sat next to Quinn, leaving some space between them. Seconds of silence later, she handed the ice-cream she bought just now to Quinn.

"You've been strong for far too long," she said. Then she reached out to hold Quinn's free hand, scrutinizing the scars on her wrist. She didn't miss out on how their hands had fitted so perfectly. "Now let me be your friend and help you heal."

Quinn smiled. It wasn't sad this time.


End file.
